The Confused Life of Artie Kirkland
by DatAssRomano
Summary: ((Misleading title, bad summary)) Arthur Kirkland was having a normal life...that was, until he realised his best friend might not have been who he had thought. Had he fallen in love with the wrong twin? Which one was he supposed to like? (MapleTea, UsUk, complete for now b/coz lazy author)
1. Chapter 1

**DARoma: I think it would be obvious I don't own Hetalia.**

_Prussia: That's right, the awesome me would never bow down to a woman! _

_Austria: What about Hungary, Hm? _

_Prussia: ... _

_Austria: *smug smirk* Ja. I thought so._

_Prussia: Do you want to lose your vital regions- again?_

_Hungary: What was that, Prussia?! __*waves frying pan*_

**DARoma: *Dodges missile* Enjoy the show~ Just don't get in Hungary's way if she wants pictures.**

_(Contains… nothing at the moment. MAY contain character death, cutting, smexy time, MapleTea, DenNor, BelaRus, attempted FrUk, UsUk, insanity, fun, pasta, SpaMano, mystery-type things, the wrong twin, etc.))_

### ####

Everyone thought Matthew Williams was just your average, normal high school student. He could even be called boring from what everyone knew about him. Maybe the one distinguishing feature he had was that he was Canadian, but that didn't help him because at the high school he went to, there were people from all over the world. People who actually remembered the angelic-looking blonde speculated about him, saying 'Maybe he has a complex about his brother because Alfred's so much more popular' or 'Do you think he's a cutter?' Rumours like this didn't circulate very far, however, because more than half the student body had no idea who this 'Matthew Williams' was. Luckily, none of the rumours were proven to be true either.

Not one.

...perhaps it was because they were spreading rumours about the wrong things?

### ####

"Artiiiiiieeee, don't leave me!"

"Get off of me, you stupid git," Arthur reprimanded as he tried to pry a clingy American off of him. Alfred just tightened his arms around the British teenager as Arthur tried desperately to leave the house. Truth be told, he didn't hate the contact, he just...disliked it. Somehow he'd managed to drag himself (and Alfred) to the front door of the American's house. "Alfred, you know I have to leave. It's..." he checked his phone, "...eight o'clock and I have to leave before I get locked out the school grounds." Pleading azure eyes stared up at him. "Can't you stay over? Please?" Arthur had to let out a chuckle as he detached Alfred's arms from around him. "Can't you be a little more dignified?" he muttered under his breath as the American yanked him into a hug instead. Arthur breathed in, enjoying the contact and scent of the other teenager but not physically responding. "It's not a hug if you don't hug me back," Alfred said, a disappointed tone in his voice as he stepped back about one inch. The Brit didn't reply, his acid-green eyes flickering over the other blonde's shoulder at a teen- someone who looked shockingly like the boy in front of him.

The teen stopped a few meters away from them and startling violet eyes seemed to stare straight through Arthur. The Brit's eyes ran over slightly waved, curly hair with a small spring in front of his face, the figure that was slight and almost girlish. His expression was blank, neutral, but he could see a tiny flicker of life in his eyes. They held eye contact for what felt like an endless amount of time, until the other broke it off and disappeared down the hallway.

"Who- What-" Arthur stammered.

Alfred frowned at him. "See one of those minty bunny things, dude?"

"Is there two of you?" He had to ask.

A small amount of clarity found itself in Alfred's face. "You mean my brother?" Surprise rippled through Arthur.

"A brother? How old is he?"

"Mattie's my twin, duh."

"How come I've never seen him before?"

Alfred shrugged. "He doesn't live here that often. He mentioned something about an apartment once."

"Does he go to our school?"

"Well, yeah, but I think he must skip or something, because I've actually never seen him in class!"

"He doesn't live with you? Don't you think that's weird?"

"Dude, why are you so obsessed with this?"

"I-I'm not!"

Arthur whipped around, intent on leaving this time. "Goodbye, Alfred," he said over his shoulder. There was a moment of silence as he wandered down the steps of the house and then he finally got a reply.

"Kay, dude! I'll pick you up tomorrow!"

"I live in the dorms, you stupid git!"

As he began the walk to his own house, he was still thinking of those violet eyes.

### ####

Matthew sat on the couch in the living room and drew his knees to his chest, still staring out the window at the teenager wandering down the street. He barely noticed Alfred walk in and sit beside him, only breaking his stare when his twin turned on The Secret Show and began watching while simultaneously shoving potato chips into his mouth. "Why are you watching a kid's show?" Matthew queried as he plucked a chip from the bag and grimaced at the taste. Who the hell had the genius idea to make tomato sauce flavoured chips? Alfred gave a nonchalant shrug. "Why not? It's a great show for heroes like me!" The Canadian beside him let out a small snort as they sat back to watch the show.

"Welcome to the fluffy bunny show!" chirped the grandma on the screen.

Matthew sighed.

### ####

The next day Arthur walked into class, going to his seat next to Lovino. The golden-eyed Italian mumbled some kind of a greeting, and Arthur nodded to him before turning his attention to the front of the room.

Arthur Kirkland and Lovino Vargas were the kind of unlikely friends one only saw once in a lifetime. Both were stubborn as mules, both were in the student council, and the both definitely had a tendency to be jerks. Kiku said it was because they were 'tsundere', but really they just liked being dicks. That's just how they were.

"Lovino," he started as they made their way to the Student Council's room during lunch. The Italian groaned. "Now what the fuck do you want?" Arthur raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on the snappish words. He'd probably just bottomed last night or something. "Did you know Alfred had a twin brother?" Lovino nodded after a few seconds. "Matt. We used to be friends, a long time ago. I have no idea where he is now though." Arthur sighed. "I didn't even know about him until I saw him yesterday. I thought Alfred had cloned himself or something." Lovino's scowl disappeared and he stared at Arthur.

"You...didn't know about him?"

"I already said that. What about it?"

"...it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Something seemed off about the brunette as he fiddled with the keys to the room, dropping them on the floor as the door was opened from the inside. "Lovino, mon cher! And Angleterre!" Francis said, a smirk on his face.

"Shut up, frog," the two said in unison as they pushed past him. The other blonde in the room barely raised his head from the paperwork on the desk. "Lovino, Arthur," Lukas said as he scribbled on a piece of paper. The Italian beside Arthur grunted in greeting and slumped into a chair by the old desktop computer they had. No one knew why it was there; they all had laptops. "Greetings, Lukas. Where's Natalya?" Arthur asked as he realised there was one missing from their party. "Watching practice. Ivan got on the team," the Norwegian replied. Arthur paled and marvelled at how Lukas managed to remain expressionless through all this. He swatted Francis's hands away from his crotch and sat behind his own desk, pulling out a bottle of iced tea to sip while he looked through the newsletter and let the other's conversations drift past.

### ####

"Mon Angleterre, hello?"

"...Hm?"

"Arthur. I was talking."

"...Yes, Lukas, what is it?"

"I said we need someone to supervise the art club. We haven't decided which clubs should be shut down yet, so instead of going to our last class every day, each of us will survey a club for the next month. So far the clubs we have to survey will be the dance club, the writing club, the white flag club, the computer club, and the aforementioned art club."

"But...wouldn't the art club be really popular?"

"Nej. Apparently there are only two or three members."

Lovino stabbed at the pasta he had. "I'll take the writing club," he muttered.

"Natalya can do the computer club."

"Hm...I shall take the 'white flag' club, oui? It sounds delightful!"

"You just want an easy job, frog!"

"...which one do you want, Arthur?"

"I'll take the art club. I want to know why there's so little people."

"Then I suppose I have the dance club. Done."

They all nodded at each other and proceeded to leave, just as the bell rang, in perfect sync.

### ####

"Art club, huh?"

It had taken most of the last break even trying to find the damn art club room, but now he'd found it Arthur didn't want to head back and waste time. The art club, for some unknown reason, was right on the rooftop of the boy's dormitory building, a large room with clouded windows. Nothing on the door suggested that it was home to a club, it's outward look suggesting more of a drug house.

Was it really a good idea to come here? He thought. As he reached a tentative hand to knock, the door swung open with a creak.

This was really not looking good. He was almost expecting that crazy chick from The Ring to appear with her 'seven days' shit.

He took a step, peering into the room. The first thing he noticed were the amount of candles. It was dark with storm clouds outside, so the small fiery lights were comforting.

Then he saw a body lying limply on the ground in front of him and screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

_Can I just say this took so much work to write. I'm so tired...tired of life, tired of lack of sleep, tired of people. But I'm driven by the happy endings in my stories...so I'll be okay. _

_Okay, story time. Sit down children, let me tell you a tale of bitter, forgotten love. - ;_

### ####

To be fair, it was a very manly scream.

"Wh-what the bloody fuck?!"

Arthur had somewhat unfortunately shut the door behind him when he entered, so when he backed up he was stuck against the door, unable to move. His startled, gasping breaths echoed around the room as he tried to control the fear of not seeing the body until he'd practically stood on it.

And that was when it moved.

Bleary violet-blue eyes observed him silently as the teen pulled himself off of the ground. He wasn't wearing a jacket or anything on his uniform, opting instead for just the white button-up shirt and paint-splattered jeans. It didn't make the blonde look bad; it was more like the messy, distracted look worked for him. The worst thing was he looked JUST like Alfred. Then he spoke. "...Arthur?"

It couldn't be Alfred. Alfred had practice. Arthur should know; the American had dragged him to far more than a few games, usually unwillingly. Then his eyes landed on the strawberry-tipped blonde hair, slightly waved and tied into a loose ponytail. Alfred's hair was nowhere near that long. But...but... It wasn't possible that...

Oh.

"...Matthew?"

Matthew couldn't even smile as his name passed the others lips, in that accent. He used to love it, the way Arthur said things. Now it just hurt, because there was only a tiny flicker of recognition in those acid-green eyes, where there had been, once, so much more. There had been that warm affection, his true feelings showing. "Wh-what is it?" He managed to say over his stormy thoughts. The Brit smiled at him, although it was behind a wall of politeness. Matthew remembered when he didn't have that wall between him and the rest of the world. So vulnerable...but unbelievably strong at the same time. That wall was what had kept Arthur safe; it guarded his heart when Matthew had passed on the job.

"...Matthew? Hello?"

He looked up again, startled. Arthur had a small frown on his face. "So, is that okay?" he questioned, although Matt had no idea what was going on in the slightest anymore.

"Huh?"

"You're not that different from your brother, are you?"

A ripple of pain shot through him as he looked at the Brit. "Wh-what?!"

"Neither of you listen."

Matthew looked away, turning to the wall he'd been starting to scrub old paint off of. He picked up a sponge and wiped around the edges of the green he'd been painting, patiently waiting for Arthur to repeat himself; not brave enough to look the other in the eye any more. He'd moved to the abandoned art room exactly because of this.

"I said as a student council member, I have to review the art club."

"...I see. For how long?" Matthew replied.

"It depends. About a month, I suppose?"

"When does it start?"

"Officially next week, but I like to get in early."

"You always did," Matthew murmured before he could help himself. He was assured Arthur hadn't heard him anyway; despite all the man's complaints about Alfred not listening, the Brit himself only heard what he wanted to hear. It was interesting, if not hypocritical. "So...where are the other members?" Arthur said after a few long, awkward minutes. Matthew glanced at him as he picked a dart from the floor and stuck it in a paint jar. "What other members?"

"A club needs at least two members during the middle of the year to function."

"Lars is in the club officially, but really...he uses it as an excuse to go get high."

"Do you ever join him?"

Matthew chuckled. "Sometimes."

### ####

"Where's Matthew?" Arthur asked Alfred as they settled down to watch a movie at the American's house. It was a horror movie, of course.

Alfred laughed, although it sounded a bit strained. "I told you, he lives elsewhere. Dude, should I be jealous?"

"No, I was just wondering," Arthur replied hastily.

### ####

Lovino rested his head on Antonio's chest, staring up at the ceiling while the Spanish male played idly with his hair. "I can't believe he, of all people, forgot who Matthew was," he complained. Antonio smiled. "It's okay, Lovi, he can't forget for long, si?" Lovino didn't reply for a minute, deep in thought. He finally sighed and spoke the words he'd been thinking ever since Arthur had mentioned the Canadian half of the twins. "I can't help but think there's something we're missing, and the hamburger bastard is neck deep in it," he growled. The hand on his hair stilled as his boyfriend thought this over. "You think...Alfred did something?" Lovino shook his head. "No, not like that. Remember when they used to switch out? I think Alfred might've used that to his own advantage and screwed up everything."

"...it's possible, mi amor."

### ####

The next day, Arthur let himself in to the art room early, hoping to get a look around by himself to evaluate the state of the place. On the outside, it was shitty to say the least, and on the inside, it was chaotic, but somehow comforting. Like he'd seen the flames drawn across the main room, the autumn leaves etched into the wooden door, the strange, vibrant colours. He scribbled notes into his book and continued to the adjoining room, eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight. It had been converted into a room, with a plugged in microwave, a small Wi-Fi transmitter and a mattress-style bed. Not to mention the person on the mattress.

The blonde was clad in simple Canadian flag boxers and nothing else. He looked flushed, like he had a fever, and Arthur could hear him mumbling in his sleep from a few feet away. He stepped closer, kneeling down beside Matthew and placing a hand to his forehead. It was burning hot, and Arthur could only frown at the weak-looking blonde. He didn't have a heater in here, and it was the middle of winter.

Matthew's eyes fluttered open halfway as Arthur looked down at him. The Brit was caught by the unfocused, pale violet of his irises. "Artie, you came to visit me," he said, although it was so quiet he had to strain to hear it.

Artie.

The only person who called him that was Alfred.

"...Matthew? Are you feeling quite alright?"

Matthew wasn't listening to him by now, already mumbling to himself again, the flush of his cheeks making him look very, very different to Alfred, however. "It's been so long. Remember when we were children, and you got sick and I looked after you?"

No.

It couldn't be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, all those writers out there who never get any reviews. It doesn't mean people aren't reading your fics; I've read a heapload of stories over my lifetime, and although I find myself unable to review (phone problems) I still really love reading them. Keep writing, even if you get no reviews, no followers!**

### ####

_"Hey," a younger Arthur greeted weakly from his bed. The blonde in the doorway smiled brightly, hopping closer. "Arthur! Are you feeling alright?" The boy shook his head. "I've got a cold or something, so I can't play," he explained, a pout on his face. The blonde tilted his head to the side. _

_"Oui, then I shall look after you." _

_"I don't want to be a bother," Arthur reassured the other as soft hands brushed through his messy blonde locks and felt his forehead. "You have a fever," the boy said softly. Arthur smiled vaguely up at him. "Maybe a little." The other shook his head. "I'll go get some tea, alright? It'll make you feel better, promise." _

_"But if I drink tea people'll think I'm some old English man!" _

_"Nah." The blonde turned from the door and smiled. "It'll just make you look sophisticated. Cool." _

_"Promise?" _

_A sigh. "Yes, Arthur. Promise."_

### ####

One thing about this memory bothered Arthur, and it had for the few weeks he'd remembered it.

Alfred didn't know French.

He looked down at Matthew as the other drifted off into slumber, mumbling about maple syrup. Did the Canadian know any? Arthur knew it was a strange, far-fetched theory, but something seemed off sometimes about Alfred's character, and he had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with the younger twin brother.

The Brit busied himself with wiping sweat off the other's brow gently, his gaze running over the flushed, silly smile on Matthew's face as he dreamed of something far away. Inwardly, he was comparing the two brothers to the best of his memory.

Matthew was Canadian, Alfred was American.

One violet, the other azure.

Longer, waved blonde hair versus the hacked-at pieces of straw.

The artist and the jock.

They actually didn't have a lot of similarities when one thought about it, Arthur mulled. So how did they get mistaken for each other so often when there was practically no similarities? It was rather strange, really. Even Arthur could mistake one for the other, even though sitting here he knew there were deep distances between the two brothers.

A buzzing filled the air as Arthur's phone began to chirp. It had to be Alfred. He grabbed it quickly, not wanting to wake up Matthew, and scanned the brightly lit screen with faint disinterest. Before he replied, he looked back down at Matthew, who still had that funny little smile on his face, and Arthur couldn't help his own curling lips at the rather cute and vulnerable sight.

**-hey artie practice ovr :p u come ovr now?- **

**-No. Busy-**

**-with what? ;)- **

**-Nothing. Git.- **

**-plz tell-**

**-No. And use English when you're texting!- **

**-babe I is using english cmon plz-**

**-Fine. I'm doing homework.- **

**-k but jeez bro u boring-**

Arthur didn't know why he had lied about his whereabouts. He just had the unsettling feeling that there was something weird, and fishy, going on that he'd missed out on between these two brothers.

### ####

Alfred dropped down onto the couch lazily, letting a yawn pass his mouth as he closed his eyes. He wondered faintly what kind of homework Arthur was doing; the teenager acted like such an old man sometimes it was boring. But that didn't make the Brit any less hot, unfortunately for him, and that had attracted Alfred's eye. Matthew had to share; there were conditions to their brotherhood sometimes. The Bro Code, as one might say.

He wasn't sure if stealing your twin brother's best friend was a good idea, but it had turned out pretty damn good for him in the end. Now he had a hot piece of ass to look at every day.

### ####

"...Matthew? Are you awake?"

Matthew squinted puzzledly at the blurred figure leaning over him. He couldn't really see without his damn glasses. Then he smelt the aroma of freshly-made tea and blinked, trying to clear the blurriness.

There was no way.

"...Arthur, why are you in my house?"

The Brit was making one of those smug little expressions, he could just tell by the silence as he tried to calm himself. Finally a voice replied, of course, the accent giving away their owner almost instantly.

"Are you feeling better, Matthew?"

"Where are my glasses, Arthur?"

Matthew noticed faintly his own voice sounded weary, like an old man's. Arthur stood up, and there was a rustling sound before the cold steel of the frames was placed into his open hand. "Merci," he murmured as he slid them onto his nose, and his vision cleared instantly. Which made him look at the other blonde's puzzled, thoughtful expression.

"...Arthur? I asked you why you were here."

Matthew realised with horror that he wasn't dressed at all. He inwardly swore before getting up on shaky legs to shuffle to a drawer to pull out jeans. He didn't bother with a shirt yet; as embarrassing as this was he wasn't game enough to go looking for a clean shirt in this mess.

### ####

"I, uh...I was..." Arthur struggled for an answer, trying not to stare at Matthew's lean body. To be fair, that whole body was embarrassingly hot, especially when he'd had an excuse to put his hands on it. Not that he'd done anything, though. He prided himself on being a gentleman. It had been easy to look in the short while he'd been suffering from a fever, because he then had an excuse. But...

"...never mind."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the defeated-sounding voice as Matthew looked over his shoulder dully. "Are you making tea for everyone, or are you just making some for yourself in someone's house?"

Arthur blinked. "I assumed you'd be more the coffee person."

"I'm not Alfred. I drink tea, just...not much, because Al tells me I look like an old man."

"We're going to get along swimmingly," Arthur muttered as he filled another mug for Matthew.

### ####

Arthur felt compelled to ask about the Canadian's current...living arrangements. It was very strange. Had he chosen to live in the abandoned art club, or had a situation forced him into it? It was all very strange, and Arthur had the pure determination that he was going to find out what or why had driven Matthew to be this. An undermined but beautiful creature of both light and darkness.

"...Arthur, are you quite alright?"

He blinked and met Matthew's mildly amused expression as the other blonde took a sip of the tea, nodding to himself, seeming to approve of the warm drink. "It's good to see you finally learned to make it yourself," he muttered, sure that Arthur couldn't hear him.

The only problem was, he could.

And Alfred was the one always complaining about his tea making skills when they were little.

But then, when they started high school, he'd begun to act strangely. He didn't seem to care anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**# Chap4 UsUk MapleTea #**

**Two reviews XD I'm so happy, thanks guys! Unfortunately I'm not on fanfiction when I write my drafts, so I can't remember your names...but I love reading all the funny comments.**

**Also, there is another fic existing on my drafts that is Lovino's life, and it runs alongside this one if anyone's interested. Ten reviews/requests and I'll write it. ((I hear people saying fifty or a hundred reviews, but that's just over the top))**

### ####

"Hey, Artie! It's been weeks, dude! The hero was worried!"

Alfred's cheerful voice made Arthur stop in his tracks, turning towards the other. "It's been one or two days, idiot," he said finally, a scowl settling on his face. He was unexpectedly yanked into a hug, which he endured for all of five seconds before pushing the American away. "Stupid git," he mumbled, blushing and looking away. Alfred beamed at him. He didn't see Alfred's cold look as he noticed Matthew standing a few meters away.

"What's up, trading my little brother for me?" The American's voice was friendly, but it had a tone of warning only the Canadian half could pick up on. Matthew's relaxed look dissipated into something wary as he stayed exactly where he was. Arthur, oblivious to all of this, rolled his eyes. "I'm sticking with Matthew because of student council reasons. You don't have to be jealous." Alfred's dark smirk directed at his brother was counteracted with an evil glare, and they continued to stare each other down until Arthur decided to look up at them again.

"Okay, well, see ya!"

Arthur waved halfheartedly at Alfred's retreating figure, not quite sure what was going on. He looked back at the remaining blonde, raising a bushy eyebrow as he saw Matthew staring off into space blankly. "I have to go to the meeting, it'll be the last one until we're halfway through the surveillance," he explained as violet-blue irises snapped back to reality. Matthew shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Eh...okay," he said in reply. Arthur sighed. The Canadian seemed to be in a completely other world. It was almost impossible to get a proper conversation. It was like they'd never spent that morning together; not that it had been a very long morning after the Canadian had practically kicked him out.

He was going to have to get used to it, because, starting from tomorrow he'd be seeing the Brit every day for the next month.

"Mhm."

### ####

"So...who's been to scope out their locations?"

"Nope," Lovino scowled and leaned against Arthur, looking bored. The Brit allowed it, simply because he knew the other was completely exhausted and didn't care who he was sleeping on. The Italian had been looking worse and worse lately, it was strange.

"I was watching big brother's practice," Natalya said, a dark look shading her otherwise pretty and petite features. Lukas rolled his eyes at this comment. "How did you even join the student council, honestly?"

"I don't even need to ask Arthur, he's the only one who has any sort of dedication to his job. Francis?"

The blonde laughed, twirling a rose around in one finger. "Oui! There is the cutest little boy there, it's hard to believe he is dear Lovino's younger brother!" Francis smirked in the older Italian's direction, but Lovino was completely out of it, his eyes closed as Arthur caught his small weight with ease.

He sighed. "I'll take him back to my room, Lukas."

Lukas rolled his eyes again. "Very well."

### ####

Matthew was sitting on a canvas, dipping a small, thin brush in lavender-coloured paint, when his phone began blasting. He followed the sound of The Fray and picked up the instrument, finding a single text, the first text he'd had in years, ever since he'd moved away to vanish from his home.

-stay away from arthur-

He snorted and began typing back.

-What so you're gonna beat me up like usual?-

-im srs. hes mine.-

-Try and stop me,- Matthew began typing back quickly, adding an extra bit on the end as his confidence rose.

-And he was mine first, Alfie~-

### ####

"Lovino? Are you feeling alright?"

Lovino opened his eyes to stare vaguely at his British friend. "...bastard...what're you..." his voice had none of the fire it normally had in it. Arthur frowned. "Are you quite alright?" The Italian groaned and sat up, looking around. They were in Arthur's dorm room, from the look of it. Interesting. "I'm fine," he mumbled, looking at the floor. Arthur shook off the concern he felt and decided to try and forget about it. But that shifted his mind to yet another topic.

"Lovino..."

"What?"

"Why do you look upset whenever I mention Matthew?"

The Italian's eyes widened a fraction. "I-I do not! Vaffanculo!"

Arthur ignored the foreign word, accepting the fact it was probably a curse word. "You do, and I need to know why."

Lovino glared. "You obviously don't care, so it doesn't matter!"

"What don't I care about?"

"Matthew!" By now Lovino's voice had risen to almost yelling, and his face was flushed slightly. Arthur frowned at him, feeling more confused than ever.

"Lovino...are you okay?"

The awareness of what he was doing hit Lovino and wide eyes flickered to Arthur's face, the gold of the Italian's irises swallowed up by forest green. He fell silent, standing up and stumbling to the door. Arthur could only watch as he took a few breaths to steady himself and then looked back at the Brit with a troubled expression. Arthur blinked at him, still confused beyond words as Lovino sighed heavily.

"I can't...this is none of my business...and I don't know whether Matthew had a say in this. But you need to remember...they're not the same person. Keep their differences in your head."

With that last- and even more confusing- sentence, Lovino darted out of the room, practically slamming the door on his way out. Arthur could hear his stamping footsteps down the hall, and he was glad that it was the middle of the day and not many people would be around.

### ####

-hey artie watchu doin? ;)-

-Nothing. Why?-

-wanna go out? ;)-

Arthur sighed, but he had a smile on his face. He needed to get away from all the drama, and...as terrible as Alfred was at romance, he did try. For an idiot. It was okay to go along with his stupidly cute little stunts every once in a while.

-Only if you stop with the absurd winking faces.-

-kay im outside-

Arthur looked out the window with raised eyebrows, and sure enough, there was a figure hopping through the snow. He snorted as Alfred went sailing headfirst into the cold white carpet, and the black object that was likely his phone fell as well. The American jumped up, grabbing his phone. Arthur heard the ping of his own phone and looked down at it.

-cmon lets go lets go (+-+)-

"The fuck?"

Arthur started laughing at the stupid little face on his screen uncontrollably.


	5. Chapter 5

**# Chap5 UsUk MapleTea #**

**Originally Mattie was gonna get in first with the date but I realised it needed more UsUk anyways so...tada! Please read! **

**But did he get in first? Hmhm.**

**It shows you should never judge things by their reviews: because I have like, ten more follows on this but less reviews than 'I'll Get There First, Potato.' So people want to know who tops in my other story, and that's why they review, but this one has a better mystery to it, and it's a more socially accepted pairing. **

**I am proud.**

### ####

"What gave you the stupid idea that it would be a good idea to go out in the middle of a snowstorm?!"

"But, but Artie! I just wanted to have fun!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're so childish, my god."

Something was off about this, but Alfred's bright attitude was hard to fight off. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Hm...dunno yet! We'll figure it out!"

Alfred began prancing away, and Arthur stifled a laugh. It was just so _stupid_, and it was just like him. Where the bloody hell had he gotten this happy-go-lucky attitude from, anyway? He'd met the parents, and they were quite boring, from what he remembered. What made Alfred so different? It was almost something he could blame on magic, the life that radiated from the younger boy. It was something precious, a vitality to be treasured for all of eternity.

He wondered if Matthew had ever been like this.

"Come on, Artie!" Came the impatient voice as Alfred stumbled back to him, grabbing his wrist and grinning that childish smile. Arthur sighed, but allowed himself to be dragged out of the school grounds. He wondered faintly where they could go when everything was snowed to hell, but dismissed the train of thought quickly. Alfred would come up with something. Maybe.

### ####

"I'm surprised you picked somewhere so...normal."

"Well, I heard they had some crazy good food here! And it looks really old and boring, so I assumed you'd like it."

Arthur hit him lightly as the American held up his hands in surrender.

"I'm only a year older than you, you git," he grumbled as he sat down on a plush red seat, watching Alfred go to order the food for them. It was on the other blonde today; after all, he'd dragged the Brit out in the cold (which he didn't mind anyway, but still) and insisted on this da- outing. Arthur sighed and rested his head on one hand, watching the American with a faint smile on his features. The nicest thing about this place was definitely the view of a nice ass- wait, no, the flowers! "The flowers!" He muttered to himself, earning a few odd glances from other customers unused to teenagers.

Their relationship bordered on romantic, but somehow had only edged the line. Neither had dated anyone for quite a while; and yet they never actually admitted to their romance out loud. It still hovered there, though, in the background every moment they spent time together. It was a strange relationship, but it worked for them somehow.

"Cuppa tea for the lady," Alfred said in a terrible British accent as he placed the tea in front of Arthur and sat across from him, swigging a coffee. Arthur fought to look unimpressed, and managed to put what he assumed was a disapproving look on his face as he lifted the cup to his lips. It was nice tea, he had to give them that.

"I thought you had bought cake?" He directed at his American friend. The blonde shrugged nonchalantly at him. "I did. They're bringing it out."

The cake was amazing. That was all Arthur had to say on the matter.

### ####

It was still snowing outside by the time Alfred had devoured the gigantic cake that had been served. "What exactly was the point of all this?" Arthur questioned on the walk home. "Usually you make me pay." Alfred laughed, and the Brit could've sworn he'd seen an almost imperceptible blush on the other's face. "Dude, maybe I just wanted to be nice? I am a hero, after all," the other replied flippantly. Arthur rolled his eyes in reply. He was sure that Alfred was up to _something_, he just couldn't prove it yet. But when he did...

A dark chuckle escaped the Brit.

"Do you think maybe we could do this again tomorrow?" Alfred's nervous question snapped Arthur out of his train of thoughts, and he cast a sympathetic glance at the hopeful American. "Sorry, I have to go and survey your brother's club, remember?" A pout formed on the other's face and he sighed.

"I said I was sorry, didn't I?"

"But Artie, can't you just skip it or something?"

"No! Why would I?"

"...Because you'd rather spend time with me?"

"I'm not that irresponsible, you wanker!"

### ####

It was amazing that Matthew Williams and Alfred F. Jones managed to be civil whilst being stuck in the sane house. Even at the dinner table, there was some kind of mental battle going on between the twins as they glared over the roast chicken when their parents weren't looking. Then the oblivious elder Jones's would comment on how well they got along absently before going back to their phones. After which there were a few moments of peace before sharp violet met bright azure and they began staring at each other again.

'Game on,' Alfred mouthed.

Matthew smirked and nodded almost imperceptibly.

### ####

After dinner Alfred went for a shower, and Matthew collapsed on the mattress in the American's room he was forced to sleep on when his parents insisted on him coming home every weekend. It was ridiculous. They didn't know a thing about him, and yet they claimed his life as their own when they got the opportunity; crushing his personality and mixing it with Alfred's when they could. Clearly they had not planned for twins.

To be blunt, they were idiots.

Matthew sighed and threw his paint-splattered jeans on the doorknob, leaving him in his white shirt and red maple-leafed boxers. It was comfortable, and he opened the window to the room, letting the cold air breeze through. Alfred would hate it, and that's what the Canadian was counting on. He smirked into the soft pillow as he closed his eyes, feeling himself drift into unconsciousness already.

### ####

Alfred glared at the open window, and then directed his gaze to the sleeping blonde on his floor. He'd dealt with the fucking cold enough for one day. And...Was that snow on his flappy bird plushie? Rude. And Matthew didn't even live here anymore. Although that may have been his fault, but it was the principal of the thing. He stepped over the Canadian, hearing his soft breathing, as he flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He knew if he tried to close the window Matthew would end up waking and opening it again. It was his own mini-warfare, knowing how much the American hated the cold, and winter in general.

Oh well.

Matthew would get what he deserved eventually.

Although it seemed this battle for Arthur was going to be interesting.

"May the best man win," Alfred mumbled into his blanket. But he wasn't worried in the slightest. The hero always won, right? That was how it was. And he was always going to be the hero.


	6. Chapter 6

# Chap6 UsUk MapleTea #

I write this slower than my other story. Am I taking time to write it better or is the other one just more fun to write? Also, I have a compulsive need to write an author's note every chapter. It's not just about getting the word count up, I swear to God. I just...well, maybe it is about the word count a little. But not much. I like being inspirational.

Hm.

### ####

Day One.

Arthur sighed as he nudged the door open with his foot, half-expecting Matthew to be on the floor again. However, this time there was absolutely no sign of the lookalike blonde as the Brit edged in the wide, open room. Did Matthew even clean this place, come to think of it? There was a whole array of paints, dyes and brushes strewn all around the area. Arthur wondered mildly if this was a family trait, he could remember Alfred's room being in the same state. He noticed with faint amusement that the window to the main room was open slightly and a small amount of snow had gathered.

"Dear me," Arthur sighed to himself as he dropped his satchel near a workbench.

He quickly searched for and found a broom, sweeping up the small pile of snow and dumping it out the accused window. For a minute he stood there, looking out at the scenery. Because the art room was basically sitting on the dorm roof, it had a perfect view of all of the grounds. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and Arthur felt a small smile cross his face as he looked out. It seemed very...like Matthew to have such a view. For some reason the Brit felt a kinship with the Canadian, like they'd had something that had drawn them together.

"...enjoying yourself, eh?"

Arthur turned back from the window, the chill hitting him directly on the back of the neck and causing him to shiver a little as his eyes met those amazingly bright violet eyes. It almost hurt to look at them, those eyes. They conveyed so much...and yet nothing at all. He smiled faintly at Matthew, who wore no expression at all as he dropped his own school bag to the side and moved so he could look out the window behind Arthur for a few long seconds, looking faintly thoughtful.

There was a moment of silence.

"Well...I suppose we'll be seeing each other a lot more now," Arthur offered.

"Mm. Oui."

That had been French, hadn't it? But he'd mumbled it, so Arthur couldn't be certain.

Matthew wandered over to a section of the wall, looking distracted. Arthur watched as he reached for a brush without looking, dipped it into a dark, shining green and began slowly, methodically painting a small area of the wall. He didn't speak as he painted, but after a few minutes he pulled out his phone and began playing music that the Brit watching couldn't place. It was a strange kind of music, with a loud bass but still managing to be soft in tune.

"So...what are you painting?"

"I have no idea. Je suis desole."

"How can you paint something if you don't know what it is?"

"It's easy." Matthew stood up, stretching a little, his shirt lifting to expose a line of pale skin. He then approached Arthur, grabbing another paintbrush on the way. "Here, let me show you," the Canadian instructed softly, wrapping Arthur's hand around the brush and dipping it in a jar of slightly metallic blue paint that was located conveniently nearby. Did Matthew just leave jars of paint haphazardly on the floor all the time? "Now we need a surface...this table will do."

Arthur wondered at the logic of the artist who never used a canvas. Clearly the Canadian never made any errors when he was painting. He watched with mild interest as Matthew drew their intertwined hands onto the rough surface of the table, gently touching the paintbrush tip to the wood. A small dot of the blue paint dripped, and the two men standing there watched it.

"What now?"

"Just...close your eyes and move to the noise in your head."

"That sounds..."

"Stupid. Yes. But it works for me, eh?"

With this last comment Arthur let out a weary sigh. Clearly he was not getting away from this, and to be honest, he liked the feeling of Matthew's body close to his. It wasn't warm, really, far from it. How could someone's body be so cold? But it had some kind of comforting aura that he couldn't put his finger on. It was rather strange, but at the sane time...it made him want to do what Matthew had said.

"Very well."

And with that he shut his eyes and began to draw. At first, he was stiff, unsure because of the uncertainty that came with having one of his major senses cut off. Then his sense of touch filtered in, and the cool hand over his began to sway back and forth, not enough to move the brush, but enough to try to encourage Arthur's own hand to move. Still he didn't relax, and Matthew felt compelled to do something, anything. So his free hand went around the Brit's waist and began to trace invisible designs on his jacket.

"Just...let it go, Arthur."

"Is that it...?"

"Mhm."

Well, it couldn't hurt, could it?

With a small smile he was glad Arthur couldn't see, Matthew rested his chin on the other's shoulder, enjoying the warmth of the other's body, as he watched the outline of something be drawn. The metallic blue seemed quite suitable for some reason. He was sure no one else had connected this finely shimmering colour to the Brit before, and that made his heart thump oddly in his chest. It was a good thing Arthur was too distracted in his own world to hear it.

He wondered what would come of this. He had joined this challenge of sorts to fight back against Alfred, but really...he knew he was in this for Arthur now. Even now, he couldn't help himself. The past was a dangerous thing, it seemed. Even though Arthur wasn't the little child he'd known, it was still interesting. He'd grown to be...well, exactly how Matthew had expected him to. His personality was more standoffish, but he seemed quite trusting of people who he didn't know anything about, funnily enough.

### ####

"See? What did I tell you?"

"...it looks weird."

"How does it look weird?"

"The lines are all shaky, and it doesn't even make a picture."

"...so?"

"I don't like it."

Matthew shrugged. "I'm keeping it on the desk now. You can't stop me."

The design looked like something abstract, alien to the world. The faint shine of the blue reflected in both sun and moon light, and if you tilted your head, you'd see something different to what you had been looking at previously. It was a paradox. And it suited the unfocused nature of the art room, although it looked much different to the painting on the walls and floor.

"Ever considered quitting the council?" Matthew inquired lightly, not really joking but at the same time not serious either.

Arthur went bright red and looked away. "Wh-when I first went to this school, they told me I was crap at art," he muttered.

"No one can be crap at art. That's impossible."

Arthur shrugged and looked back down at the painting. "...I suppose not," he said finally.

Matthew felt a smile cross his face.


	7. Chapter 7

**# Chap7 UsUk MapleTea #**

**This has twice the follows of my other ongoing fic! I'm so proud of it. Does anyone else treat their fics like their children or is it just me? It's like I have a funny, popular child with a dark side, a silly little one that I forget I have a lot, and this one, a slightly arty, nerdy child that actually has a lot more substance than the others. :3 I love them all. **

**I'm the same as Matthew with the weather, except it's me and the rain. Which isn't good when I have a weak body and I get sick all the time. Oh well.**

### ####

"So, Alfred...how's the team going?"

"...fine."

"Very well," the Brit sighed, giving up on making conversation. Usually Arthur would have the pleasure of hearing about the entire game, to how dumb the other team was to how Alfred suspected Ivan was on steroids. Really, the Brit didn't care, but he found the American's enthusiasm quite...cute, for him. Now he could barely get a whole sentence out of him. It had begun this week; as he'd begun spending his afternoons watching Matthew.

Arthur didn't know why Alfred was acting jealous.

He blinked at the younger boy, studying the pout and wondering what exactly might have brought it on. They were sitting in the cafeteria for lunch, and for some reason Alfred's groupies (he insisted on calling them that, because really, that was how his friends acted) weren't there today. So he was left with Alfred pouting as he tried to eat fifty hamburgers at once, with Arthur himself picking at a salad daintily. Even though people told him he was a complete pansy for eating it, he liked to be healthy. Such was life.

As he was glancing around the room he noticed Matthew wandering past vaguely, drinking a cup of coffee. Well, maybe he could get his conversation, if not from Alfred, from his twin brother. He waved at Matthew, and violet-blue eyes snapped to attention, fixating on him immediately with no expression. He beckoned the blonde closer, and he obeyed, albeit slowly. As he stood silently, waiting for Arthur to say something to him, the Brit felt a pang of uncertainty.

"H-hello, Matthew."

"Bonjour, Arthur."

That was definitely French, he knew that much. He'd heard the language a little, but only when he decided not to ignore Francis for once. Arthur forced a smile to his face and stuck the salad packaging in a pile on the table before he resumed speaking to the Canadian again. Alfred seemed oblivious to all of this, simply sitting there, munching on burger after burger like a mindless machine. Arthur felt a small amount of distaste fill his expression at the sight. It was amazing Alfred wasn't the size of a blimp.

"Would you like to sit? There's something I need to discuss with you."

Matthew smiled, and it looked bitter for some reason. "I'd better not."

"Why? Do you have somewhere to be, then?"

"I...that's not it. But I wanted to go out in the snow."

Out in the snow...? Well, it wasn't a storm or anything, so it was unlikely he'd get sick _again_. Arthur glanced back at Alfred again indecisively. Why didn't Matthew think it was a good idea? It wasn't like the American was being very good company; and it wouldn't hurt to spend some time with Matthew outside of watching him paint. Arthur still had no idea what he was painting on that wall, and apparently...neither did the Canadian. It was an interesting ritual, one they were still trying to get into.

"I suppose...would you like some company?"

"...you want to..."

"Well, only if you can put up with me."

"I think I can handle it for a while."

They shared a small smile as Arthur stood, gathering the packaging he'd left. Alfred didn't look up, mumbling something but not acknowledging his brother at all. Arthur looked between the two, feeling faintly worried. Were the two fighting or something? Well, they were brothers after all. They were bound to have some problems. He shrugged it off and threw the rubbish in the bin, shoving his hands in the pockets of his uniform. He noticed as they began walking Matthew didn't have anything warm on. Maybe he didn't feel the cold or something.

### ####

What a sight, Arthur thought, watching the Canadian under the shelter of a tree. Matthew was standing in the middle of the snow, the drift reaching up to his shins, a silly little smile on his face. He seemed to be happy simply standing there, absorbing the atmosphere with a calm but pleased demeanor. He looked...oddly enough, angelic. The stressed, emotionless look he normally wore had dissolved into something relaxed. Even though he should be frozen (as Arthur was) he seemed completely at ease, and quite happy out there in the weather.

It suited him, actually. Who would've thought.

"Aren't you cold?"

The Canadian snapped back to reality, tearing his gaze from the sky. Matthew's violet eyes flickered over his face as Arthur drew closer, pulling his jacket around him. One eyebrow raised as the Brit looked down, embarrassed at his lack of resistance to the chill. Then the Canadian shrugged slightly, looking nonchalant. "Nope. I like it out here," he said finally.

"Why?"

Matthew's gaze turned up to the sky. "I'm...not really sure. The snow just has an allure I can't resist, I guess."

"An allure? What are you, a moth?"

"I suppose that is pretty apt, actually. A moth is drawn to light in the same way."

"If you say so..."

### ####

Alfred glared at Matthew as he opened the front door and wandered into the house. The American was sitting on a couch with a packet of chips, as usual, but the dark look on his face was different. Matthew rolled his eyes and made for the kitchen, realising with amusement he was being followed. As he opened the cupboard to find food, he waited patiently for Alfred to say something.

"This isn't fair, Mattie."

"What?"

"At least let him decide for himself instead of stealing him every five seconds!"

"He does have a mind of his own, Al. Just because you decided to act like a petulant child doesn't mean it's my fault."

"I don't even know what that means!"

Matthew finally pulled out a packet of cereal and began munching on it, leaning against the counter. Alfred was standing in the center of the kitchen, azure eyes alight with hidden anger. The Canadian sighed, not really caring. It wasn't like their parents were home, so if he yelled it wouldn't matter in the slightest.

"That's because you don't pay attention to anything but yourself."

"Shut the fuck up!"

It was a good thing he'd put the cereal aside, Matthew thought vaguely as he was slammed back into the counter. Before he could react he was punched in the jaw, hard. Flares of pain exploded and he swung back without thinking, hooking a leg around Alfred's knee and sending them both to the floor, although Matthew had a cushion in the form of a writhing American. Punches, kicks and pain was traded as they yelled at each other, years of frustration unbottling into a chaotic mess.

"This is your fault!"

"What, that you stole my identity and my friends?!"

"You wouldn't even have any friends if it wasn't for me!"

"I don't have any friends, you retard! _Because_ of you!"

"Shut up!"

"_What_ the bloody hell?"

They both looked up at Arthur's stunned face.

"Shit."


	8. Chapter 8

**# Chap8 UsUk MapleTea (Ending?) #**

**Hehe. I dunno. MORE PLOT! XD I have to warn you, though, this is a shitty ending. But I can't be bothered writing more, so...Actually, this'll probably be the last chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed.**

**I accept requests for omakes and sequels :3**

### ####

"I can't believe you two!"

Matthew went to raise an eyebrow but then winced as the disinfectant was applied to a cut above his eye by a seemingly angry British teenager. Arthur's expression was...rather stormy, and he was unsettled by it. But most of all he didn't want to be in the same room as Alfred, who was sweeping up a broken plate, following the Brit's orders. The Canadian had been given treatment first, due to the blood dripping everywhere from his nose and split lip. Thankfully, Matthew wasn't the only injured one, though. Alfred was nursing some bruised ribs, by the sound of him wincing every time he bent over, and a bruise was coloring on his face in yellows and purples.

"What possessed you to do such things to each other?"

Arthur's lecture was met with silence from both brothers, as Matthew looked away from his searching green gaze and Alfred dumped the mess in the bin. The clatter of plate shards in the bin was the only noise made in the next five minutes, and Matthew realised faintly that Alfred was leaving the room. Arthur turned his head to watch, a disappointed look on his face as the American walked up the stairs.

Matthew decided that he needed to get out of here too. He used one hand to brush Arthur's away from him gently and shifted on his position sitting on the counter. Arthur standing between his jean-clad legs meant he had no hope of escape; and to tell the truth, he really didn't want to anyway. Even though the Brit was supposed to be telling him off, there was just a detached feeling in Matthew's heart, much like usual.

"You realise we're twins, right?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Matthew sighed. This was it.

"When I was little, I got sent to a school in Canada because I had...issues. I had to leave my friends, my family, everything. It was...really painful. Especially when I had to leave my best friend. I couldn't even bear to tell him I was leaving. I just...up and left. But Alfred, thinking he was doing the right thing, tried to take over my life with that boy. It helped the boy didn't actually know my name, and just assumed we were the same person, even if our personalities were completely different.

Then...when I returned, Alfred decided he didn't want to reveal the truth, which I would've agreed with, except...I still wanted that boy. And he had no idea who I was, what I was. But I was willing to fight to get what I wanted, and Al didn't like that. At all. But, Arthur...I didn't want to let you go. I loved you too much."

The moment Matthew stopped speaking, he was aware of wide green eyes fixed on him. Arthur looked shocked, stunned even, and wasn't moving, and the Canadian felt a slither of uncertainty before he shook it off.

Oh, fuck it. Screw Alfred and his games, Matthew was over it. With a yank of Arthur's sweater vest he crashed the other's lips against his and shut his eyes tightly. After a moment of what seemed like shock the Brit began kissing back, and Matthew wound his legs around Arthur's waist to pull him closer, fisting his hands in the soft material of the vest. The kiss was rough and desperate on the Canadian's part, and careful on the Brit's. Matthew's split lip tainted it, the sharp tang of his blood melting into it. He traced his tongue along Arthur's bottom lip, enjoying the contact. After a moment of thought Arthur's lips parted slightly, granting him entrance as their tongues touched tentatively. This continued for a long, hot minute until Arthur broke it off with a gasp.

"Matthew, what was...that?"

"Not sure. Why? Did you not like it?"

Arthur let out a shaky breath, a blush spread across his face. Matthew kept his own expression blank, even though on the inside he was dancing with joy. That had been the most amazing moment of his life, funnily enough. His heart was beating erratically, but it was in a good way, a way that made him feel like maybe he _meant_ something for once. He let his legs drop down as he heard the front door slam open and shut, and assumed Alfred had gone out. Maybe he'd seen them.

"I...um...did you mean it?"

Matthew let out a short laugh. "I don't just make out with anyone, Arthur."

Arthur went a brighter red. "I didn't- I wasn't implying that-"

"Of course you weren't."

"I..."

"Tell me you don't want it."

Arthur trailed off, looking at him with an unreadable expression. Matthew felt a faint smile appear on his lips, and reached one hand up to push his glasses up his nose as he slid off the counter. Arthur's expression stayed the same as he gazed up, seemingly in thought. Then he took one of Matthew's hands in his own and reached the other to take the Canadian's glasses off completely. He laid them down on the counter and smiled faintly as well.

"Shall we?"

### ####

Matthew realised with faint amusement as he pushed Arthur down on the bed that it was Alfred's bed they were doing this deed on. Then he also realised he really didn't care anymore. He didn't really have a place in this home; not any more. Green eyes, dark with desire, gazed up at him as Matthew unzipped his hoodie and yanked off his shirt. They'd already managed to discard Arthur's pants and sweater, leaving him in his underwear and a white button-up. And damn, did he rock that look.

"What if your parents come home?"

"They won't."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the blunt abolishment of his question, but didn't really seem that bothered anyway. He wound his hands through Matthew's hair, enjoying the softness of the gold locks, and pulled him down for another kiss. They'd stopped being rough a while back, but desperation was still fuelling their desire and soon Arthur's hands had slipped down to Matthew's pants to play with the zipper. The Canadian felt his breath hitch as hands brushed his crotch. Then his pants were unzipped and pulled down with ease, his boxers soon joining them on the carpeted floor. Matthew tugged on the Brit's own boxers and they were removed as well. Then they stopped to look at each other, taking in the other's expression and asking a question accordingly.

"...Are you sure about this?"

"Would I have let it go this far if I wasn't?"

A laugh. "True."

### ####**((sorry for skipping it, wasn't up to writing a smut scene today))**

Arthur awoke to a warm arm around him and assumed it must have been Alfred, in his sleepy mind. He curled closer to the body and in return a cold nose pressed against the back of his neck. It wasn't unpleasant, however, and he found himself drifting back into unconsciousness again, the faint scent of maple syrup reaching his senses. The arm tightened around him and Matthew smiled in his sleep, dreaming of something.

### ####

When Alfred got home, it was late, too late. He'd been out the whole damn night, and most of the morning. His parents weren't home, but that didn't change the fact he'd been out with Ivan again. Nothing good ever happened when he went out with the Russian, and he could only hope that limp he had was from a fight or something and not what he suspected it was. He groaned as he entered the house, smelling food and wondering who could possibly be cooking in _his_ house. Soft voices reached his ears as he kicked off his shoes.

"So...Matthew, are you ever going to finish that painting?"

"Oui. When I get the time. But aren't you going to tell on me to the student council?"

"No. I'm going to join the club myself, I've decided. So really, there's no problems anyway."

"Are the student council going to be okay with that?"

And then he was treated to the sight of Arthur in nothing more than a loose, unbuttoned white shirt and British flag boxers, leaning against the counter and nursing a steaming cup of tea while Matthew cooked in nothing but jeans, the lack of a belt revealing a slim waistline. He said something to Arthur in an amused tone that Alfred couldn't hear and the Brit laughed and leaned over to kiss his brother lightly on the lips, and it was such a genuinely perfect and happy moment that Alfred felt his heart drop to the floor and shatter. He backed up a step, just a single step, and looked back at the door.

He'd lost.

It was _over_.

### ####

"Did...did you hear something? I could've sworn that I..."

Arthur trailed off, a bothered look on his face. He set his tea on the bench and wandered over to the doorway, looking out into the hall but not seeing anything. Matthew pulled the maple syrup out of the fridge and raised an eyebrow at him in question, his glasses still sitting on the counter by request of the Brit.

"You what?"

"It's nothing. Never mind."


End file.
